


Reward System

by Morgan Steelgrave (m_steelgrave)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-18
Updated: 2010-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_steelgrave/pseuds/Morgan%20Steelgrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I kind of hate this," John groused as he tugged at the chartreuse satin uniform jacket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reward System

"I kind of hate this," John groused as he tugged at the chartreuse satin uniform jacket. Paul threw him a look that said, "Cease your bitching immediately, Lennon."

Ringo's stomach growled. "Are there any more of those sandwiches left?" the drummer asked.

"Just a few more shots and we'll be finished," Peter said, his camera clicking madly. John sighed and adjusted his grip on the French horn...flugelhorn...whatever-the-fuck-it-was-horn.

"Wish they'd let us keep Hitler in there," he muttered.

"Or Jesus," said George. "If only some tit hadn't opened his mouth and gotten half the world's knickers in a twist."

John glared at him. "I apologized for that, thank you very much." George shrugged and brushed at the ridiculous feather the costumer insisted upon attaching to his hat.

"Is anyone else hungry?" Ringo inquired again.

Click, click, click.

"How many photographs do you need for this cover, anyway?" John asked as he ignored another pointed look from Paul.

"Almost finished, lads," said Peter, still hovering around the set like a vulture with a wide-angle lens.

"I could really go for some more of those biscuits they served this morning," Ringo sighed. "You know, the lemon ones."

John snarled, "Could you talk about something other than food? I'm starving and it's driving me batshit!" Ringo only looked slightly wounded, so the outburst wasn't nearly as satisfying as John had hoped.

"John," said Paul quietly.

"What?"

"If you promise to be a good boy until Peter finishes the shoot, I'll let you fuck me in this godforsaken uniform."

Though Paul had spoken softly enough not to be heard by the photographer and his assistants, the other three men heard him loud and clear. There was a moment of awkward silence, broken only by the clicking of the camera and George's cough as he tried to stifle his laughter. Ringo turned crimson and nearly dropped his trumpet.

John grinned. "I'll be on me best behavior."

Paul gave him a tiny smile.


End file.
